


Boots!

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [124]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee (TV) RPF, Canadian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF, The Boys (TV 2019) RPF
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 14:00:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18251279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: In Citadel, Antony Starr is an AU (alternate universe) character. He tells people he's an IT Risk Management and Computer Security Consultant (his official cover) but really he's a ex-military, sometimes mercenary, computer hacker and master thief hired by collectors and other ruthless people to steal for them: art, jewels, money, information... Citadel knows Antony's true occupation and he would never target the organization or any of its membership. Through Cit, he's met Stephen Amell (played RL) and fallen hard. This is their story.





	Boots!

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Antony Starr/Stephen Amell storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read).

_warning for boot worship_

After stuffing their faces full of Chinese food, it'd taken the length of a movie and a short nap before either Antony or Stephen were ready to think about even more pleasurable pursuits.

Antony had moved to the bedroom first, leaving Stephen to finish up in the kitchen: kicking off the dishwasher, fetching a couple of bottles of water from the fridge and giving himself a few minutes to quiet his head in readiness for what he'd been promised. Antony's boots.

Changing from sweatpants to camos and a tight fitting t-shirt, Antony laces his boots up and settles back against the headboard, feet dangling off the side of the bed as he waits for Stephen.

A deep breath and Stephen makes his way to their bedroom, he can tell from the light that spills out into the hall that Antony's left only the bedside lights on and as he steps into the room he stops. Because that first moment, the first view of his lover and Sir in boots - knowing they are for him, for his pleasure... it steals his breath.

The way Stephen stills. His very obvious reaction. It's exactly what Antony expected and so much more, his own arousal spiking instantly, his cock starting to harden. "You get to run this," he tells his husband. "This is your reward. How do you want me?"

Stephen's eyelids flicker in surprise at that, he opens his mouth to reply then snaps it shut again. He walks to the bed, sets the water bottle down and then slowly drops to his knees. "I want my Sir," he glances up from Antony's boots to meet his lover's gaze. "It's not just the boots Sir, it's submitting to you _and_ the boots. I need both."

"Okay." Antony nods, shifting forward, his boots set firmly on the floor. "I haven't cleaned them since I came home. I've kept them waiting for you, for my boy."

Stephen shivers at that, his fingers itch to reach out and stroke the leather, to shuffle back and lean in to inhale the scent, but he stays still. Waits instead for permission, savours the anticipation. "Boy thanks you Sir."

"You're getting these because you made me proud yesterday in New York," Antony says, "but I still expect you to make me proud now. I expect them to fucking _gleam_ by the time you're done. You got that, boy?"

Stephen's brow wrinkles a little as he looks up at his Sir. "Yes Sir, of course," he nods, as if that at least didn't need pointing out to him. "I always do my best Sir."

"Good. Show me."

Stephen shuffles back, bends at the waist, his one hand set beside Antony's boot, the other he reaches out, lets his fingertips play over the cap of the boot, up over the laces and around, a sensual touch, a lover's touch. Only when he's had his fill of this does he lean closer, his mouth just a breath away as he inhales the scent. A soft noise spills from his mouth as his lips make contact, placing one reverent kiss.

Fuck. Antony doesn't think he'll ever get sick of this. Of watching his boy worship him, his boots. His cock kicks up again, filling further, and he hisses in a soft breath.

Eyes closed, Stephen swipes his tongue over the front of the boot, tasting leather, tasting Antony's power over him. He moans softly as his cock fills in a heart beat, he slurs out a quiet "Sir..." before he takes another taste.

"Take your pants off," Antony orders, swallowing against a throat gone dry.

Resenting the time it takes him away from his task, Stephen however obeys with alacrity, he straightens enough to push his pants down and then roll on his butt to kick them away. Then he kneels again, waiting for permission to return to his task, his reward. The taste of the boot lingers on his tongue, making his pupils blow wide with subspace.

Antony takes a good long look, his gaze raking over his boy. Over every inch of the perfection in front of him. That cock, gloriously hard, the new slightly thicker ring through its head. "Beautiful," he says, nodding his approval. "You can keep going now."

"Thank you Sir," Stephen bends once more, returning to Antony's right boot, he spends the next few minutes cleaning that boot very thoroughly with his tongue, until it's gleaming, just as his Sir demanded of him. This is one of Stephen's most favourite things, boot worship, it was before he met Antony, but now... now it's a whole new level of incredible. Because his man wears these boots for real, they are not a prop, they are part of his owner, so to be able to worship both man and boot at once is a heady thing indeed.

Cock aching, Antony presses the heel of his palm against it, shoving his arousal down. He promised Stephen his boots and he's going to keep that promise. Behave himself. At least for a little bit longer. "Good boy," he says when Stephen's done with the first boot, taking the time to examine it from every angle. "Well done."

"Thank you Sir," Stephen mumbles as he turns to the other boot and gives it the same precise attention. First he explores it with his fingertips, then his mouth, laving the leather, tasting and worshipping in one. By the time he's done there his belly and thighs are sticky with precum that has seeped from his cock, the clear fluid stringing from tip of penis to skin, his throat and chest flushed dark with the depth of his arousal.

"Good boy," Antony says again when he examines his other boot. "Very well done." He takes a long look at Stephen before moving his foot between Stephen's thighs, nudging his boy's cock with the toe. "How much would it take for you to come right now?"

Back in presentation pose Stephen sways a little at the touch to his dick, his gaze fixed on Antony's face. Licking over his lower lip he takes a moment to compose himself enough to answer. "Not much Sir, boy is very close."

"So if I kept doing this...?" Antony says, pressing a little harder, the toe of his boot rubbed along the length of Stephen's erection.

In any other situation, Stephen would be embarrassed at the noise he makes as the leather he's just cleaned rubs along his cock; it's needy and desperate. All he wants to do is to arch into that boot and rut against it like an animal, it's humiliating, shameful and so very erotic.

"Would you like to fuck my boot, boy?" Antony asks, his voice low and wicked.

Antony's intuition is spot on, so much so that Stephen drops his gaze, his skin flushing deeper still, because yes, he wants that, more than anything in this moment he wants that. "Yes, please Sir, boy would be honoured if you would allow that." he whispers.

"Go ahead," Antony nods, so fucking hard it hurts. "Give me a good show, boy."

Shuffling forward on his knees, Stephen wraps his hands around Antony's calf, bracing his Sir's leg as he moves to nestle his genitals against the top of Antony boot, he dips his head and rests his forehead against Sir's knee as he starts to thrust, his hips moving in a small fucking motion, his cock dribbling precum all over the dark leather.

"That's it," Antony urges, "fuck that leather. Show me how needy it gets you, getting your mouth on my boots. How fucking desperate..."

Stephen is drowning in pleasure, in the act of rutting so shamelessly against his owner's boot. In the smell of their sex, in Antony's voice and the hint of disgust that makes Stephen ache. He hasn't felt so debased since their beach scene when Antony had smeared a used condom in his face, forcing him to eat the contents. This is perfection however: it's just the two of them, his Sir is dressed to please him, the boots, the taste of leather, his orgasm so very very close. Stephen's hips speed up as he nears his completion, his breath ragged as he gasps out. "Please? Sir please?"

Antony nods, gaze locked on Stephen. "Do it. Paint my boot, boy."

Stephen's fingers tighten their hold on Antony's leg as he thrusts one last time, his face contorts and he cries out a noise that sounds pained as he shudders through an incredibly intense release. When he's done he's gasping for air, his hold eases and he lifts his forehead from Antony's knee to look up: dazed, adoring and totally blissed out.

Antony grins, reaching out to cup Stephen's cheek, pleasure washing through him just at the look on his husband's face. "You are so beautiful."

"I am Sir's fuck toy," Stephen slurs out, tilting his face into Antony's palm. He's very aware of how aroused his Sir is, where he's knelt he can clearly see just how much what he's just done has aroused Antony.

"Yeah, you are," Antony agrees, nodding, thumb brushing over Stephen's skin, deceptively gentle, "and you've made a mess of my boot. Clean it up and then I want your mouth on my cock."

"Yes Sir," Stephen shuffles back, and makes short work of cleaning up his semen from Antony's boot. When he's done, he straightens and reaches for Antony's fly, eager to get his mouth on his Sir, to be used and be the means his Sir gains his pleasure.

Antony shifts forward, giving Stephen better access, his cock springing free as the zipper's drawn down.

A soft greedy noise falls from Stephen's mouth as he leans in, his lips parted in readiness, hungry to taste his Sir and suck on that thick column of flesh. His hands settle on Antony's thighs as he braces himself.

Antony pushes into Stephen's mouth with a groan, one hand sliding into his boy's closely shorn hair.

Still floating on the intense buzz from the boot worship, Stephen's attention is a little distracted. He maybe sucking his Sir with as much greedy enthusiasm as usual, but it's sloppy, less polished, there's no urge to show off, merely the need to please his Sir, to create pleasure and satisfaction.

"Oh, fuck," Antony breathes, pleasure flushing through him. He pushes deeper, into Stephen's throat, feeling his orgasm fast approaching. "Pull off," he orders, releasing his own grip on the back of his boy's head. "I want to come on your face."

Stephen blinks at the order, it's not that Antony never does that, but it is unusual. So Stephen drops back on his heels, his face turned up, eyes slitted to watch as his Sir tips over into orgasm, waiting to marked, waiting to be drenched in his Sir's seed.

Antony curses under his breath again, curling a hand around his cock and stroking fast. His climax - when it hits - is like a fucking freight train and it's all he can do to keep his aim true, each and every spurt coating his boy's skin.

Making a noise like each spatter burns him, Stephen sways a little, the whole scene, from the moment he walked in to find his Sir in combats and boots has been hot as fuck, hitting all his most favourite things.

Breathing heavily, Antony reaches out and touches Stephen's cheek, scooping up his own come on the pad of one finger and bringing it to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick it from his skin. "You get to clean up the rest, boy."

"Yessir," Stephen slurs. He brings his hand to his face, uses trembling fingers to wipe at each smear of semen, it takes him a few minutes, mostly because he's out of it, but he does a good job, returning to his presentation posture when he's done.

"Good boy," Antony praises, seriously impressed with Stephen as always. "You can take my boots off now, undress me. I want us to lie down for a bit."

Stephen has to focus hard on plucking the laces loose, and tugging the boots from Antony's feet, he sets them gently to one side before rolling to his feet. He's little unsteady on his feet but he manages to help Antony out of his clothes, when his Sir is fully naked Stephen waits until Antony's settled back into bed before he joins him.

Antony pulls Stephen in close, the sheets up around them. "I love you," he whispers, pleasure still thrumming through him, his whole body suffused with pure happiness.

"Thank you, for that," Stephen mumbles as he wriggles himself into a comfortable place under Antony's arm, he drapes himself half over his Sir and rubs his cheek over Antony's heartbeat.

"For my boots?" Antony smiles and kisses the top of Stephen's head. "You earned them."

"For all of it," Stephen yawns against Antony's skin. "It was perfect."


End file.
